


Marveling at the Bounty (Our Days Contain)

by SilverBird13



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/F, Fantine Fix-It, First Time, I had to give her a happy ending, Madeleine Era, Oh Fantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBird13/pseuds/SilverBird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Instead, Fantine had risen slightly and pressed her thin lips to Valjean’s cheek, letting her other hand cup the older woman’s face, and Valjean had understood."<br/>A Fantine Fix-It for the Kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marveling at the Bounty (Our Days Contain)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for these prompts on the KM: "An inexperienced fem!Valjean being taught the joys of love-making from a younger woman" and "Just a scene of Fantine f/f from an implied fix-it AU would be glorious." I never write Fantine, but I adore her, so here you go!

Jeanne Valjean (Clarice Madeleine, _Clarice Madeleine_ , **Clarice Madeleine** ) wakes to the unfamiliar sensation of a soft body pressed against hers and wide brown eyes gazing affectionately upon her form.   
  
The woman beside her smiles, teeth shining in the early morning light.

  
“Would you, would you like to-again?”  
  
  
*****  
  
Valjean had decided, upon meeting Fantine, that they may be blessed by God as no two others had been.   
  
The day the two had met was still fresh in her mind, the beautiful young woman in tears on the floor of her factory, screaming in a way that made her blood run cold and almost caused her to freeze before understanding the task God had put in front of her.

"Madame Terrin, do not dismiss her.  She claims she has a daughter, not that she is a woman of the town," Valjean said evenly, praying that Madame Madeleine's calmness and mercy would be enough to help this unfortunate.  
  
“No Madame le Maire, she’s a whore, I heard it.  I know you’re a God-fearing woman, but we can’t have her like polluting your factory.”  
  
Valjean had sniffed and struggled to smile kindly, blandly enough to placate all.  “I see, Madame.  I’ll simply have to find another position for her, then.  I won't have a child left in the streets.  Come, what is your name, Mademoiselle?”  
  
“I’m called F-Fantine, Madame.”  
  
A flash of warm brown hair, a quirk of the thin lips, and a little hand tucked into her arm, and Valjean was lost.

 

*****  
  
The women had taken their time, Fantine at first swearing to move out within the week, then the month, and then the year (and no, Madame, she didn’t have _nearly_ enough skills to stay and be her maid!).  Only when Valjean offered to let the child Cosette come and stay with them (and didn’t she have a lovely garden for playing in, and really more room than she knew what to do with...) did Fantine acquiesce and resolve to stay for the sake of her child’s happiness, though not without finally accepting Valjean’s offer of a position as her maid-companion.  
  
Unfortunately for Fantine, however, the autumn of their introduction turned into a winter which became the worst in recent memory, and no carriage could pass to fetch Cosette until the blizzards stopped.  Thus, the two women had been trapped in waiting, with Valjean tending to her duties as mayor and securing a position for Cosette at the local convent school and Fantine helping to dress her hair and cut her nails and keep her company as she worked.  Though she’d never met the child, thanks to Fantine’s fierce love for the girl, she was nearly as enthralled with Cosette as her mother was, listening with joy to tales of her smiles and hugs.  Only when she found herself dreaming of holding the girl until she slept, of cradling mother and child safely in her arms, did she know how far she had fallen.  
  
*****

  
If asked, neither woman would ever be able to say what had begun it.   
  
The night had been as bland as all the rest, with prayers and a simple dinner (though Valjean made sure Fantine had an extra helping of meat and cobbler-her cheeks were really too thin, still).  They had eaten in companionable silence and then moved into the parlor, Fantine picking up her sewing and Valjean beginning a new novel.  
  
Valjean guessed that perhaps barely a quarter-hour had passed before Fantine’s voice jolted her out of her reading.  “Madame,” she had said softly, nearly in a whisper, and Valjean looked up to see the young woman kneeling before her, dark eyes glimmering and hands shaking in her lap.  
  
“Fantine,”  Valjean had replied, finding her own throat thick.  She instinctively reached out and covered Fantine’s hand with her own, slipping her fingers down to trace the woman’s palm.   
  
Fantine whimpered in response, and Valjean swallowed, a painful cramping beginning in her chest as she prepared herself to see this lovely woman cry, to see her bear her heart to one who seemed to know nothing of suffering.  
  
Instead, Fantine had risen slightly and pressed her thin lips to Valjean’s cheek, letting her other hand cup the older woman’s face, and Valjean had understood.  
  
“Don’t be afraid,”  she said kindly, taking the young woman’s face between her own hands, letting herself feel along Fantine’s soft skin, her pointed chin and pink lips.  “I-I hunger for this too.”   
  
Before Valjean could feel fear or nervousness or simple regret, Fantine had reached up to kiss her, trailing her lips and cheek down along Valjean’s jaw, and she knew the wetness against her neck was from relief.  
  
****  
  
They had ended up in Valjean’s bedroom, undressing with their backs toward one another, Valjean purposefully delaying her movements so as to avoid removing her shift.    Fantine’s simple dress and undergarments had come off quickly, and Valjean soon welcomed the younger woman into her arms.  
  
Fantine reached for Valjean’s hand and let it cover her warm, firm breast.  “Do you know how...well, what to do?”  Fantine whispered, tucking her head against Valjean’s ear, hair tickling the older woman’s nipples in a way she’d never assumed could be pleasurable.  
  
Valjean smiled and lay a hand on Fantine’s lower back in response, letting herself feel along the healing curves of her body as the younger woman hummed into her skin, soft lips a comfort against her neck.  
  
“I-I suppose,”  Valjean responded after a time, letting her hand trail lower and feeling the young woman let out an open-mouthed gasp.  “Do you, _ma chere_?”   
  
“Well, yes,” Fantine said, pulling away with a blush.  “But will you-will you be atop me?”  
  
Valjean felt her belly thrum at the woman’s words, and she gently detached herself from Fantine, keeping an arm against her hips to guide her back against the bed and hold her down as she moved, still clad in her shift, to sit astride the woman.   
  
Fantine looked even more lovely than usual, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, hair softly tousled against the sheets that matched her skin.  The heat between Valjean's legs was growing, and she could feel the lovely wetness as it spread, slicking her.   
  
“Are you ready, Madame?”  Fantine asked, looking up at her with a smile.  
  
Valjean returned the gesture, letting her hand come to rest at the top of Fantine’s curling mound.  “Tell me what you like, _ma chere_ , and I’ll try to give it to you.”  
  
Fantine gasped as Valjean began to slip her fingers into the warmth below, and cried out as the woman brushed a sensitive spot near the top.  “Oh, again please,”  she moaned, and Valjean felt herself slacken as she rubbed the bump again and again, creating a rhythm as her other hand moved to slip further down.  Though Valjean had only done this to herself rarely, she knew how good a finger could feel, and let one gently slip inside the woman beneath her.  
  
“No!”  Fantine whimpered, twisting her body and nearly causing Valjean to fall. “Please, Madame, don’t do that,”  she attempted evenly, and Valjean bent down to kiss her in comfort, drawing the offending hand away and moving it to instead cup one of Fantine’s breasts, moving her thumb over the nipple and causing her to moan.  
  
“Yes, yes, that’s good,” she said softly, “Please, more Madame.”  
  
Valjean was helpless to obey, feeling her own peak build as the smell and sound and warmth of Fantine filled her, causing her to join in the younger woman’s soft cries.  
  
Fantine suddenly tensed beneath her, and Valjean felt nothing but sweetness in her breast as she felt the wetness spread over her fingers and watched the woman beneath her writhe and pant and smile up at her.  Valjean stroked Fantine through it, her own pleasure momentarily forgotten as she studied the woman, whose eyes were once again wet, as she began to whisper, seemingly to herself.  
  
“That is what it is-that, then.  How have I never known?”   
  
Valjean let Fantine collect herself, unsure what else to do besides to hold a warm hand on her hip to ground her.  Soon, Fantine was seemingly back to the present, quickly lifting Valjean’s shift and thrusting a hand between her legs.  
  
Valjean whimpered as Fantine began to perform the same ministrations on her, though she quickly found the constant pressure on the bump too intense.  “Lower, _ma chere_.  Enter me,”  she whispered boldly, and she gasped happily as two fingers slid into her, providing her with a pleasurable fullness she couldn’t resist rocking her hips against.  
  
It didn’t take long for Valjean to join her lover in ecstasy, the feel of Fantine inside her and the memory of only minutes ago too intense for her to last.  She came with a single moan, letting the wetness seep onto Fantine’s fingers before they were removed, much to her chagrin.  She pushed herself from atop the woman, moving so that she was flat on her back with Fantine quickly curling into her side like a cat.  
  
“Let me get the covers, _ma chere_ ,”  Valjean whispered, pulling the blankets beneath them up to cover them.  Fantine remained flush against her, cuddling tightly as though she feared she would be rejected if she moved away.  
  
“May I stay, then?”  she asked, pressing her face against Valjean’s bosom, which seemed suddenly struck with pain.  
  
“Of course, my little love,”  Valjean murmured, moving to wrap her other arm around Fantine’s waist, “now sleep.”


End file.
